


Crime and Punishment

by OpenPage



Series: Sub Rosā [6]
Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Kinky, M/M, Sex Toys, Short Story, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenPage/pseuds/OpenPage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom's been a <em>bad, bad,</em> boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crime and Punishment

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ute/gifts), [TorchwoodCardiff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TorchwoodCardiff/gifts), [savemyunicornclarence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savemyunicornclarence/gifts), [Wormy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wormy/gifts), [fortheloveofliterature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortheloveofliterature/gifts), [ToBeOrNotToBe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBe/gifts), [Peace_On_Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Peace_On_Earth/gifts).



> This is the final story in my _Sub Rosā_ series. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> In peace,  
> OpenPage x
> 
>    
>  **Disclaimer: I do not own 21 Jump Street or any the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.**
> 
> **No copyright infringement is intended.**
> 
> **Based on the TV series 21 Jump Street.**

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/156893755@N07/35137549734/in/dateposted-public/)

As an undercover cop, Tom knew all about the harsh reality of the justice system, but that did not mean he ever got used to the enormity of the role he played in changing the course of a young person’s life. He had spent the afternoon in court giving evidence against a teenage arsonist, and by the end of the day, he had felt both emotionally and physically exhausted. When he left the courthouse, he had originally planned to go straight home. Friday night was _date night,_ and he was looking forward to spending some quality time with Dennis. But as he drove his Mustang through the congested city streets, he felt a sudden urge to take a long walk along the beach in the hope it would clear his head and help him unwind. 

And so, amid honking horns and irate drivers, he performed an illegal u-turn and headed back in the direction of Santa Monica State Beach. Once he started walking along the sun-bleached sand, it did not take long for Mother Nature to weave her therapeutic magic. The hypnotic crash of waves and screeching _aow uh-uh-uh_ of the California Gulls soon eased the tension in his neck and shoulders, along with helping him put the nagging doubts about his job into perspective. He had always loved the outdoors, but after joining the force, he barely found time to take a stroll in the park. Therefore, spending time wandering along the water’s edge helped to restore his rationality. While he loved his job, he often struggled with the aftermath of an arrest. Most of the teens he collared looked so young when they arrived at court; all dressed up in their Sunday best, their worried parents in tow. It was then that the reality hit him hard, and he could not help but wonder if instead of steering the young delinquents toward a life of salvation, he was, in fact, indoctrinating them into a life of _incarceration._ Some were scared straight, but others took to life in detention like a duck to water. There was a fine line between good and evil, and it made him uncomfortable to think about it.

After spending several hours quietly pondering the ramifications of his job, he suddenly realized Booker had expected him to call hours ago. With his eyes scanning the busy boulevard, he spotted a payphone and jogging across the warm sand, he entered the booth and rang his lover. Booker quickly reassured him he wasn’t angry, and he even went as far as to suggest they cancel their dinner plans so they could spend a quiet night at home listening to music and talking. It was one of the many things Tom adored about his lover. Not only was he intelligent, funny and gorgeous, he could also be extremely nurturing, and he always knew how to help him through the tough times. Not that any of their co-workers would have believed it because Booker had a knack of coming across as smug, egotistical and extremely insensitive. But Tom knew better. Dennis put up defenses to protect himself from the cruelties of the world. He had suffered constant bullying in high school because of his sexuality, and therefore, he had developed an _I don’t give a shit_ tough guy persona just to survive. But it was all a façade. Scratch the surface of his bristly exterior, and underneath lay a heart of gold. For Tom, being one of the few people to know the _real_ Dennis Booker was a privilege, and he thanked the universe every day for bringing them together.

Now, as he stood outside his apartment, he wondered if Dennis was already inside, biding his time until he walked through the door. He could imagine him relaxing on the couch; a bottle of Jack and two tumblers in readiness on the table, his bow-shaped lips eagerly waiting to kiss away the pain. It was the tonic Tom needed to put the day behind him, and pulling out his key, he promptly unlocked the door.

The sight of his dim apartment immediately quashed any fantasy of his lover rushing to meet him with open arms, and exhaling a heavy sigh, he flicked the light switch. When the room remained shrouded in darkness, a deep frown knitted his brow. He tried the switch several more times before walking across the room and turning on the occasional lamp. But the room stayed dark, and it slowly dawned on him that maybe there was a power outage.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered to himself, and walking over to the door, he angrily kicked it closed with the toe of his boot. The harvest moon cast enough light through the curtainless window for him to walk into the kitchen without banging into anything, and he made his way straight to the liquor cupboard. The thought of Jack Daniel’s had brought on a thirst, and licking his lips, his mind went into sensory overload as he imagined the woody essence of his favorite whiskey exploding against his tongue, the sweet sapidity setting his taste buds on fire. 

He reached out for the bottle, his mind so focused on having a drink, he did not notice the shadowy figure moving stealthily across the room until it was too late. Someone came at him from behind; an arm wrapped around his neck, and a warm hand wrenched his right arm behind his back. Panic rose in his throat, filling his mouth with the metallic taste of fear and he struggled to break free from his attacker’s hold. But his assailant was too strong, too determined and a feeling of dread filled his heart. He was in trouble.

Warm breath caressed his cheek, sending a shiver of foreboding down his spine. The rapid _whooshing_ of blood pounding in his ears made it difficult for him to concentrate, and he struggled to hear the intruder’s softly spoken words.

“Someone’s been a _bad, bad,_ boy.”

Although barely audible, the teasing tone was instantly recognizable, and excitement immediately replaced Tom's fear. A discernible hardness pressed against his backside, and suppressing a moan, his muscles relaxed against the warm, partially dressed body behind him. 

“I’m sorry, Officer Booker,” he capitulated meekly, his timid voice trembling with mock terror. “Please don’t hurt me … it won’t happen again.”

Booker’s arm maintained a slight pressure around Tom’s throat, but not enough to hurt him. It was all about dominance, and nothing sent blood flowing to his cock quicker than hearing his lover’s soft, compliant voice. He was the one in control, and he was going to teach Tom a lesson. 

Without applying enough force to cause an injury, he twisted Tom’s arm higher up his back, the force pushing him up on his tiptoes. “You said that last time,” he admonished softly against the shell-like curve of his captive’s ear. “And you know what happens when you lie to me.”

Tom’s shoulder muscles bunched painfully, and an intense burning sensation radiated throughout his upper body, bringing tears to his eyes. But the discomfort did not dampen his growing arousal. Instead, it acted more like an aphrodisiac, and a rush of blood flowed to his lower extremities. “Yes,” he gasped. “I know! _I know!”_

A low growl rumbled deep in Booker’s chest, and leaning in closer, he slowly swept his tongue up the side of Tom’s face. “Tell me,” he whispered menacingly against the smooth, moist flesh. “Tell me what happens.”

“You punish me!” Tom squeaked, pain and excitement sending a full body tremor from his head to his toes.

Pleased with the response, Booker lessened his grip slightly, the movement lowering Tom back to the soles of his feet. “That’s right,” he stated, and releasing his hold completely, he shoved his _prisoner_ toward the direction of the bedroom. “Now, move it.”

Having stood on his tiptoes, Tom’s feet had lost some feeling, and he stumbled forward. But a hand on his back helped propel him into his bedroom and stopping next to the bed, he waited for instructions.

“Strip.”

The authoritative tone of Booker’s voice raised the fine hairs on Tom’s forearms. He was already semi-erect, and if previous experience was anything to go by, he knew Booker was too. As he slowly removed his clothing, he managed to sneak a look at the dark-haired officer. Naked except for his police hat, belt, and shirt—the latter unbuttoned—Booker’s erect cock jutted proudly out in front of him, the long, thick shaft nestled enticingly in a bush of tight, dark curls. His belt was buckled low on his bare hips, and a pair of handcuffs hung on either side of the soft leather, their metallic glint hinting at what was to come. The sight was so erotic, Tom struggled to suppress a moan. But he fought against his desires and managed to stay in character. It was, after all, a role-playing game and for it to work, he needed to remain submissive.

Once naked, he stood obediently next to the bed, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Soft moonlight illuminated the room, casting abstract shadows over the pale walls, and even though he knew what was about to happen next, the event never failed to excite him.

“Turn around,” Booker instructed in a low, husky voice. 

Tom did as Booker asked, and when he saw the halter-style leather cock ring in the dark-haired officer’s hand, a tremor ran down the entire length of his body. “Please, Officer Booker,” he implored with large, doe-like eyes. “I promise I won’t—”

“Silence!” Booker barked and taking a step forward, he fitted the bindings around Tom’s penis and testicles and tightened the base strap. The sensation of Dennis’ fingers toying with his erection threatened to send another moan tumbling from Tom’s lips, but he knew better than to make even the slightest sound of pleasure ... at least not yet. With his cock now completely hard, the leather armor highlighted the magnificence of his erection, and he was more than ready for some action. But he knew the rules; he had to wait until Dennis gave him his orders, and then he would receive his _punishment._

Booker moved back behind Tom, a hint of warm breath whispering against the back of his neck; the brief contact leaving him wanting. “Kneel on the bed and face the wall.”

Swallowing down another moan, Tom climbed onto the mattress and dutifully did as Booker asked. Moments later, Booker was kneeling behind him. Tom could feel his lover’s erection pressing against his backside, and a smoldering heat ignited deep within his soul, the flames licking at his genitals, fueling a fiery passion inside him. 

He was in for a treat.

A rough hand wrenched his arm behind his back, and a ring of cold metal circled his wrist, snapping closed with a definitive _zzztttt._ The cuff pinched his skin, but he did not complain. The tightness of the restraint excited him, and a rush of air exhaled sharply through his nose, his chest rising and falling as he continued to draw in irregular, uneven breaths. Seconds later, Booker yanked his arm forward and attached the free cuff to the wrought iron headboard. The process was then repeated on his other arm, and once his left wrist was secured, he felt Booker moving behind him. Seconds later, a blindfold robbed him of his sight, the silky scarf feeling soft and familiar against his skin. His heart rate quickened, and with his sight impaired, his auditory and somatosensory senses heightened. He could hear and feel _everything,_ from the steady _tick-tock_ of the second hand moving around the dial of his alarm clock, to the gusts of air blowing in through the open window, the cool tongues licking at his naked flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. At that moment, his body had never felt more alive, and he longed for the moment when his _punishment_ would begin.

When a slick finger pressed against his anus, the muscles in his buttocks instantly tensed. A soft, taunting laugh sounded behind him, and his cheeks flushed red with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. 

“Aw, c’mon, Tommy,” Booker breathed against his lover’s right ear. “You know you want it. Tell me you want it.”

Tom’s tongue slowly rasped over his dry lips. “I-I w- _want_ it,” he stammered, the heavy thudding in his chest making it difficult for him to speak.

“Good boy,” Booker praised softly. “Now, raise that pretty ass in the air.”

Having played the game many times before, Tom knew there would be no soft caresses to help him relax, and bending forward, he pushed his buttocks upward. Immediately, the tip of a lubricated finger pressed against his hole, and taking in a deep, ragged breath, he exhaled heavily. Without ceremony, Booker’s finger pushed inside, and inhaling again, he blew out his breath a second time, and the finger moved further inside his anus, loosening the ring of muscle and opening him up. He instinctively pushed backward, encouraging Booker to probe deeper, but to his dismay, the finger was promptly removed.

“Tsk tsk,” Booker chastised with a shake of his head. “Not yet, you know the rules.”

Struggling against his restraints, Tom’s body wiggled in frustration. “But I _need_ it,” he gasped, his voice rising to a desperate whine. “Please, Officer Booker … _please!”_

Within moments, something smooth and warm pressed against him, and he moaned in relief. Although not Booker’s finger or cock, a butt plug was the next best thing, and as the slick, latex stopper pushed into his anus, filling his emptiness and stimulating his g-spot, a delicious tingly sensation spread throughout his body. His nerves screamed with a raw sensitivity, and when a hand unexpectedly reached around his chest and pinched his nipple, a loud gasp of pain tumbled from his lips, and he squirmed in delight. _“Fuuck.”_

A wolfish grin played over Booker’s lips. “Shall I punish you now?”

The muscles in Tom’s buttocks quivered in anticipation. “Yes,” he moaned, his hips rocking backward and forward, the motion pulling at his shackles. “ _God_ yes.”

Raising his hand, Booker delivered a stinging, open-palmed smack to the flesh of Tom’s butt cheek. “Are you a _baad_ boy?” he growled.

A jolt of pleasure pulsated through Tom’s trembling body. “Yes,” he panted, his cock straining against its leather confines, a bubble of precum glistening from the tip. “Yes, yes, YES!”

“Say it!”

“I'm b-bad.”

“Again!”

“I’m _BAD!”_

“Do you like being punished?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want me to spank you again?”

“Yes!”

“Louder!”

“YES!”

_Smack!_

“Beg me.”

“Please …”

“Beg me!”

“Please, Officer Booker! Please spank me!”

_Smack!_

“Beg me again!”

“I can’t, I—”

“Beg … me … _AGAIN!”_

“Please! Please! _PLEASE!”_

_Smack!_

“Oh God,” Tom groaned in frustration, the stimulation overload igniting every nerve ending in his body. “Oh God, I need to come!”

Booker grinned fiendishly. “Nuh-uh, you've been a b _aa_ d boy, and I haven’t finished playing with you yet.”

Rough fingers yanked out the butt plug, but before Tom could mourn the loss of sensation, Booker's lubricated cock pressed against his hole. “Do you want me to fuck you now?” the dark-haired officer crooned.

Shifting his position slightly, Tom’s fingers wrapped around the headboard, the ornate iron railing biting into the tender flesh of his palms. “Yes,” he groaned, his hips waggling provocatively. “Please … _please!”_

Grasping hold of Tom’s hip with one hand, Booker held the base of his cock with the other, and with a moan of pure pleasure, he slowly pushed the tip inside. “Fuck yeah,” he breathed, his hips thrusting forward, the motion embedding his cock deeper inside Tom's slick channel. “You’re so fucking tight.”

When the head of his lover’s cock grazed his prostate, a full body spasm shuddered down the length of Tom’s spine. “Yes, yes, yes,” he moaned, his grip tightening around the metal headboard. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

As Booker’s love making became more enthusiastic, Tom’s sweat-slicked body rocked forward and backward in tempo with his lover's frenetic thrusting. His leather-strapped cock jutted out in front of him, and he longed to reach down and touch himself, to run his fingers over his aching shaft. Frustration built inside him, rolling over his body in waves and he pulled frantically at his restraints. But the futile action made no difference to his situation; he was bound tight and completely at Booker’s mercy.

“Tell me you like taking it up the ass,” Booker grunted, his huge cock ramming deeper inside Tom’s anus. 

Sweat trickled between Tom’s shoulder blades, the tiny droplets shimmering in the moonlight. “I like it,” he moaned, his hips rocking backward to meet each of Booker’s countering thrusts. “Oh _fuck,_ I like it.”

“Louder!”

“I LIKE IT!”

The muscles in Tom's back bunched and spasmed and he knew he was close to blowing his load. “Release me!” he begged. “I wanna come!”

“Not yet,” Booker wheezed, his nails biting into the flesh of Tom’s hips. “Just a bit longer …”

“I can’t I can’t I can’t,” Tom gasped, his sexual mantra falling into rhythm with the erotic sound of Booker’s testicles slapping against his ass. “I need I need I … _AHHH!”_

Tom’s body convulsed, his strangled cry echoing around the room. Warm semen shot from the tip of his penis, the viscous fluid splattering against his pillow, and the smell of sex infused the night air. His body convulsed as Booker’s cock continued to thrust deep inside him, his lover’s desperate moans the only sound ringing in his ears ...

**

Standing outside Hanson’s apartment door, Penhall ran an anxious hand through his hair. Knowing his friend well, he knew Tom would be feeling dispirited after testifying in court, and he wanted to offer a companionable shoulder to cry on. However, despite hearing unidentifiable noises inside the apartment, his knocking had gone unanswered. He knew Tom was home—his Mustang was parked outside—and after several minutes, he finally decided his friend was not in the mood for company. But just as he was about to leave, a muffled yell rang out and taking a step back, he kicked in the door.

Loud moaning sounded from inside the bedroom, and moving stealthily, he crept into the darkened room. For a fraction of a millisecond, his heart stopped, the sight before him too horrific to comprehend. But moments later, adrenaline started pumping through his veins and with a primordial yell, he launched himself at Tom’s assailant, tackling him to the floor. The sickening crunch of bone smashing against bone resonating around the room, interspersed with furious yelling. 

“I’LL FUCKING …”

_Crack!_

“... KILL YOU ...”

_Crack!_

“... YOU FILTHY …”

_Crack!_

“... MOTHER …”

_Crack!_

“... _FUCKER!”_

_Crack!_

Unable to see, Tom frantically pulled at the handcuffs, the metal rings biting brutally into his wrists. But with thoughts of his lover consuming his mind, his brain barely registered the pain. “DENNIS!” he yelled, panic constricting his chest. “DENNIS, WHAT’S HAPPENING?”

Heavy breathing filled the air and seconds later, a hand whipped off Tom’s blindfold, and he found himself staring into a pair of familiar brown eyes. “Oh God! Tommy!” Doug exclaimed, his eyes frantically searching for the keys to the handcuffs. “Are you okay? Oh God, _please_ tell me you’re _okay!”_

“Doug?” Tom cried out hysterically. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Doug’s brow knitted in confusion. “Doing? I’m saving you, that’s what I’m doing!”

Despite wearing handcuffs, Tom managed a passable impression of a small child throwing a tantrum. “ _Saving_ me?” he yelled, his body jerking violently against his restraints, the motion causing the chains to jangle loudly against the iron railing. “We were having sex, you idiot!”

It took a moment for the words to register in Doug’s brain. _“Wh-what?”_ he croaked, the slight waver in his voice accentuating his disbelief. “Noo, noo, noo. He was raping you, I saw—”

“It was a game,” Tom interjected, his voice rising with anger. “Jesus Christ, Penhall, look at me! I’m wearing a cock ring for fuck’s sake!”

The color drained from Doug’s face and casting a furtive glance at Tom’s groin, he visibly recoiled when he saw the leather straps binding his friend’s flaccid cock. “JESUS _FUCKING_ CHRIST!” he exclaimed, and staggering backward, he tripped over his feet and landed on his ass with a thud.

Tom’s lips twitched into a satisfied smirk. “See?” he goaded proudly. “It wasn’t rape, it was consensual … and let me tell you, Penhall, it felt fucking amaz—”

“STOP!” Doug screamed, his eyes bulging in horror at the sight presented before him, and scrambling to his feet, he stumbled from the room.

A soft moan alerted Tom to Booker’s pain, and twisting around, his eyes widened in shock when he saw his lover sprawled on the floor, blood gushing from his nose; the amber fluid smeared across his bruised face. “Oh fuck! Dennis, are you okay?” he cried out in anguish.

“M’kay,” Booker mumbled through swollen lips and using the wall as support, he hauled himself to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a few moments before stumbling forward and collapsing onto the bed with a groan.

Desperate to offer comfort, Tom nudged him impatiently with his foot. “Dennis, unlock me!”

Pushing up onto his elbows, Booker waited for the wave of dizziness to pass before pulling two keys from his shirt pocket. He crawled up the bed and with unsteady hands, he unlocked the cuffs. Strong arms immediately embraced him, and he sank against the warmth of Tom’s naked body. “M’sorry,” he moaned, his breathing sounding thick and stuffy through his broken nose. “I shouldn’t have—”

 _“Shh,”_ Tom soothed, his hand gently stroking his lover’s hair. “You’re not to blame. Fucking Penhall got the wrong idea … _again.”_

“Not ... his fault,” Booker muttered graciously, his damaged ribs flaring painfully with each intake of breath. “It must’ve ... looked ... pretty … bad … I mean ... he doesn’t … know about … us ... so …”

Regret fluttered in Tom’s heart, and a heavy sigh expelled from between his lips. He had always _meant_ to tell his friend about Booker, but the thrill of their clandestine affair had been too intoxicating to share. He had selfishly wanted his relationship with Dennis to be theirs and theirs alone, not something that was discussed in hushed tones over the water cooler at work. But he suddenly realized the foolishness of his mistake. Doug was his best friend, and now he had found out in the worst possible way, and he wasn’t sure if either of them would get past the embarrassment of it all. After all, it wasn't every day your best friend caught you having wild, kinky sex with another man.

Although he felt a burning need to right his wrongs, Tom’s primary concern was for the injured man lying in his arms, and gently cupping his bloody face, he lovingly caressed his cheek. “Jesus, Doug really did a number on you. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Carefully lowering himself on his side, Booker grabbed Tom's pillow and bunching it under his head, he breathed in the exhilarating scent of semen that permeated the case. “Go. Talk to Penhall,” he mumbled, his blackened eyes fluttering closed. “Just don’t forget about me, okay?”

“As if,” Tom smiled and leaning forward, he kissed the top of Booker's head. Slowly climbing from the bed, he unstrapped the cock ring and placed it on the nightstand. His muscles ached, but he ignored the pain and rummaging through the jumble of clothes on the floor, he hurriedly dressed in tee shirt and shorts. Wishing he could knock back a slug of alcohol before having what he knew was about to be an extremely uncomfortable conversation, he took a deep, calming breath and walked into his darkened living room.

Doug sat on the couch, his hulking frame illuminated by the brightness of the full moon shining through the window. The forgotten bottle of Jack Daniel’s now sat on the coffee table, the seal broken, and a good measure of the amber liquid gone. Unsure how to proceed, Tom reached out for the whiskey. “Do you mind?” he asked softly.

There was a visible stiffening of Doug’s body before he slowly shrugged his shoulders. “It’s yours, you can do what you like with it,” he muttered, the double-entendre not lost on Tom.

Tom picked up the whiskey and took a swig; the spirit leaving a pleasant after-burn in his parched throat. Sitting down on the edge of the coffee table, his fingernails tapped nervously against the glass bottle. “I wanted to tell you.”

Ignoring the half apology, Doug asked the question that was foremost on his mind. “How long?”

With a slight hunch of his shoulders, Tom sighed. “I dunno, about six months I guess.”

Shock registered in Doug’s brown eyes before it brewed into a dark, smoldering anger. “You’re kidding me? Six months? You’ve been with _him_ for six … fucking … months? So all those times I caught you guys acting weird, the two of you were a _couple?”_

A deep frown creased Tom’s brow, narrowing his eyes. “Well, yeah,” he replied testily. “But I kinda get the feeling it’s not the gay sex that’s upsetting you. It’s more about who I’m having gay sex _with._ Am I right?”

Doug shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but despite his best efforts, he could not disguise the look of disgust on his face. “Jesus Christ, Tommy, it’s _Booker!_ I don’t understand—”

“I love him,” Tom stated simply. “When we’re together he makes me feel—”

“Whoa!” Doug exclaimed, his hands held up in a halting gesture. “I don’t need details!”

“I wasn’t gonna _give_ you any details,” Tom muttered moodily, his lower lip pushing into a soft pout. “I just want you to understand how important he is to me.”

A heavy silence hung in the air, both men feeling justified in their anger. But eventually, Penhall offered the olive branch. “You _really_ love him, huh?” 

Tom’s dark eyes sparkled with emotion. “Yeah, I really do,” he confessed quietly. “I’ve never been with a man before, but it feels ... _right …_ you know?”

“Not really,” Penhall quipped lamely, but when Tom didn’t smile, he nudged him with his foot. “C’mon, Hanson, it was a joke, lighten up.”

“Was it?” Tom asked seriously, his penetrative gaze searching his friend’s face for answers. “Because if you can’t handle my relationship with Dennis, then we’re gonna have a problem.”

Although somewhat disturbed by the turn of events, Doug knew that no matter what, he would stand by Tom’s side. He just needed time … time to process the information, and time to try to build a friendship with Booker. 

“There’s no problem,” he reassured, his lopsided grin creasing the corners of his eyes. “It was just a bit of a shock, that’s all.”

Tom’s stance visibly relaxed, and his eyes twinkled with gratitude. “Yeah, I guess it was … for all of us.”

Turning to look over his shoulder, Doug nodded toward the bedroom. “Is he okay?”

“He’ll live,” Tom replied quietly. “But if you’ve broken his nose, there’ll be hell to pay.”

Doug grinned back. “Booker’s tough, he’ll get over it.”

Tom nodded, his thoughts once again returning to his injured lover, and standing up, he ran an awkward hand through his tousled hair. “So … I should probably go and check on him.”

Rising to his feet, Doug hesitated for a moment before pulling Tom into a clumsy embrace. “I’m happy for you, buddy.”

Tears sprang to Tom’s eyes, blurring his vision, and he gave his friend a tight, loving squeeze. “Thanks, Doug,” he whispered, his voice choking with emotion.

Although moved by his friend’s affectionate tone, Doug suddenly felt an overwhelming need to return some manliness to their hug, and he slapped Tom roughly on the back. “No problem,” he affirmed gruffly, and releasing his hold, he picked up the bottle of Jack and raised it in the air. “To you and Booker.”

After Doug had taken a drink, Tom took the whiskey from his friend’s hand. “Cheers,” he murmured, and raising the bottle to his lips, he swallowed down several large gulps, the alcohol helping to calm his jangled nerves.

Wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, he placed the half-empty bottle back on the table. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

There was no mistaking the finality of the statement, and Doug took the hint. “Yeah, see you tomorrow,” he grinned, and casting a mournful eye over the bottle of Jack, he left the apartment.

The tension in Tom’s shoulders relaxed and resisting the urge to take the whiskey with him, he walked into the bedroom. Booker lay curled on his side with his eyes closed; his battered face pushed into the folded pillow. Tom’s eyes misted over, and lying down on the mattress, he gathered his lover in his arms. 

“Are you in pain?” he whispered, his breath heavy with concern.

Booker’s lids slowly fluttered open. When he saw the deep, passionate love burning in his lover's eyes, his heart skipped a beat, and his pain magically melted away. 

“Not anymore.”

_Finis_


End file.
